


If I drink enough

by Politics_notmything



Series: Parrlyn one shots [5]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, F/F, Inspired by Music, Short One Shot, parrlyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politics_notmything/pseuds/Politics_notmything
Summary: They didn’t match. Usually, red and blue gays (because who's ever heard of green and blue gays) slot right into each other like peas in a pod; adjusting schedules to compromise with the other. Not now, not ever.Clutching a phone in shaky hands, Anne Boleyn dialled a recurring number that immediately went to voicemail, “Hey, my love.”
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Series: Parrlyn one shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044444
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	If I drink enough

It had always been a rocky relationship. The pair were just opposites, yet they still tried to make things work. It wasn’t the best idea. 

Anne Boleyn and Catherine Parr soon discovered that they could never be happy together. Anne was comfortable lying in bed till 3pm whereas Cathy would demand they woke at 8am and doing an activity by 8:30. 

Cathy hates breaking away from a schedule, but Anne Boleyn finds it impossible to keep every day the same; there has to be a little change. 

The 6th queen would stay awake all night, writing down her thoughts and revising various language devices, but despite Anne’s constant begging, she would never sleep more than 2 hours. 

They didn’t match. 

Usually, red and blue gays slot right into each other like peas in a pod; adjusting schedules to compromise with the other. Not now, not ever. 

In the dark, Anne Boleyn is wasted on her bedroom floor, back against the foot of her bed, tears running down her cheeks and leaving streak marks amongst her makeup. Her hazel eyes surrounded by a halo of skin where she’d been wiping her tears. 

Clutching a phone in shaky hands, Anne dialled a recurring number that immediately went to voicemail, “Hey, my love.” 

The Boleyn girl didn’t know how many voicemails she’d sent since Catherine walked out and had no knowledge that anyone was listening. But through the heartbreak, she still tried to reach out. “I buried you a month or two ago-” Her voice cracked. “But I keep thinking that you're standing on my floor. That you're waiting there for me.” 

Anne adjusted herself and rubbed her temples, 

“You've walked out a hundred times, how was I supposed to know this time that you wouldn't call?” She paused, looking for the right thing to say, “That you wouldn't come home?” 

The Boleyn girl just decided to let it all go. She concluded that Cathy's chances of listening to her mass of voicemails were meagre, and the writer probably wouldn’t care anyway.

“But four drinks and I’m wasted. I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you, at the foot of my bed.” She shut her eyes, swimming in her thoughts, “If I drink enough, I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you. But it's all in my head.” 

Anne felt like she experienced the 5 stages of grief all at once because her sorrow suddenly evolved into anger.

“When you left, you took my bestest friends away. And in this mess, I think I dug a thousand graves, Cathy. I hope you're happy anyway.” 

Anne managed to stop herself before she made matters worse. After all, it was her intense emotions and impulse decisions which got them into this mess. 

“But four drinks and I'm wasted.” Anne forced a stray tear from her eye, “I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you at the foot of my bed. If I drink enough, I can taste your lipstick, I can lay down next to you. But it's all in my head.” 

Anne’s heart rate rose, and she clenched her jaw, “You broke my heart, now I'm wasting my time on you.” 

Unbeknownst to Anne and 200 miles away, Catherine Parr was in the same position. Knees held close to her chest and delicate tears dripping down her cheeks whilst listening to the recent voicemail. 

“If I drink enough, I can see you dancing, I can lay down next to you, at the foot of my bed. But it's all in my head.” Cathy crumbled after hearing Anne’s final lyric, “If I drink enough, I swear that I will wake up next to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song, 'Talia' by King Princess. 
> 
> Not one of my best one-shots but nevermind. 
> 
> Tumblr is Politics-notmything. Comments and kudos are ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you for reading/supporting. XXXx


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